“Scream it. Right now. Or I will punch you right in the twat.”
“This is ridiculous. Screaming something like that is not going to help me,” I complain.
“It will most certainly help you. A little dirty talk goes a long way with the gentlemen callers. If Belle were here right now, she’d probably be spouting off a bunch of stats about this shit. You know what? Fuck it, pretend I’m Belle. Studies show every single man in the entire universe is more likely to stick his dick in you if you talk dirty,” Ariel says in a soft, meek voice eerily similar to Belle’s.
Ariel sits on her stool staring me down, and I know she won’t let up until I give her what she wants.
“FuckmePJ,” I mumble quickly, my cheeks flushing with heat.
“I’m sorry, twat did you say? I cunt here you. Louder!” Ariel orders.
“Oh my God,” I groan, raising my voice just a tiny bit louder, barely above a whisper. “Fuck me PJ.”
“Jesus, you suck at this.” She shakes her head at me and gives me a look of pity. “Louder. And put your fucking vagina into it this time.”
“Fuck me, PJ,” I say again, a little bit louder.
“Better. Now try, ‘I want your cock in my pussy.’”
When I don’t immediately reply, she punches me in the arm.
“Ow, what the hell?! Just give me a minute!” I yell at her.
“Yeah, that’s it! Get mad!” she demands, punching me again.
“SON OF A BITCH, I WANT YOUR COCK IN MY PUSSY!” I shout at the top of my lungs, glaring at her as I rub the spot on my arm that already feels like it’s bruising.
“BEND ME OVER THE COUCH AND FUCK ME HARD!” Ariel screams, threatening me with her fist held up in the air.
“BEND ME OVER THE COUCH AND FUCK ME HARD!”
Ariel claps her hands together in glee and bounces up and down on her stool.
“Oh my God this is so much fun! It’s like having my very own wind-up, talking hussy doll. I WANT TO LICK YOUR BALLS!”
“I WANT TO LICK YOUR BALLS!” I immediately shout back, starting to get the hang of this and not even a little bit embarrassed by the things coming out of my mouth now. “FUCK ME HARDER, LICK MY PUSSY, PUT YOUR DICK IN MY MOUTH, STICK IT IN MY ASS, TOSS MY MOTHERFUCKING SALAD!”
Ariel immediately stops clapping and looks at me with wide eyes.
“What? Too far?” I ask.
“Jesus, way too far. I know I told you to cruise around on Urban Dictionary to pick up some new words, but that was clearly a mistake.”
I blow out a breath of air and smile at her. “I can do this.”
“You can totally do this.”
Grabbing my phone from the counter, I send a quick text to PJ, asking him if I can dance at the club this weekend. Sure, it’s not coming right out and asking him for the things I just shouted in the middle of my kitchen, but it’s equally important, and he knows that. Plus, dancing at Charming’s would be the ultimate way to get customers, and much better than sticking flyers in mailboxes or twiddling our thumbs waiting for someone looking for strippers to just stumble on our website. I would literally be in a room filled with our target market.
PJ basically laughed at me and shot me down the last time I asked, but that was before all of the mind-blowing orgasms he gave me. He knows our website is up and running since I showed it to him last night, and he knows I need to put myself out there and get my first time taking my clothes off in front of people over with. There’s no reason for him to say no to me now.
I’m scared shitless, but if I can scream about cock and pussy, I can do anything. My phone immediately chimes with an incoming text, and when I read it, all of my hope and excitement immediately turns into anger.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I mutter, turning the phone around so Ariel can see.
“No,” she says, reading his reply. “Seriously? That’s it? Just no? No explanation or anything?”
With an annoyed huff, I close out of my text messages and pull up my contacts, dialing Tiffany’s number.
“What are you doing?” Ariel asks when I press the phone to my ear. Tiffany answers on the first ring.
“Hi! I need a huge favor from you, but you absolutely cannot say anything to PJ,” I tell her, giving Ariel a wink.
She quietly listens to me explain everything to Tiffany, and I have to hold the phone away from my ear when Tiffany screams in excitement, telling me to consider it done. I end the call and set the phone back on the counter.
“Damn, make the woman do a little screaming about dick and she turns diabolical. You make me so proud, I think I’m going to cry.” Ariel sniffles, wiping imaginary tears from her cheeks.
I either just made the best decision ever, or the worst, that I will wind up regretting. Considering I told PJ that I refuse to let anyone tell me what I can and can’t do, he should have seen this coming.
Let’s just hope I don’t fall flat on my face and can prove to him once and for all that I’m ready for this.
Chapter 23: Make Momma Some Money!
Closing my eyes, I take a few deep, calming breaths as I stand behind a black velvet curtain in the dimly lit backstage area. An erotic song that I don’t recognize plays through the club on the other side of the curtain, the heavy thumping bass from the music vibrating through my body.
“You can do this. It’s just like you’ve been practicing. Close your eyes and pretend you’re just dancing in your bedroom,” I whisper to myself.
“Do you normally have over a hundred complete strangers in your bedroom watching you take your clothes off while dancing to a horrible eighties song?” Ariel asks.
My pep talk is interrupted and my eyes fly open to find my friend standing next to me backstage. It still feels weird to call her my friend, considering a few weeks ago I had no desire to ever speak to her or get to know her. She’s one of the reasons I’m standing here right now, getting ready to do something I never thought I’d do. Sure, it’s an unusual way to make your dreams come true, but everyone has to start somewhere.
“I took your advice and chose another song. But just so you know, ‘Eternal Flame’ by the Bangles is not a horrible eighties song. ‘Is this burning, an eternal flame’ is a beautiful and passionate lyric,” I argue with her, my voice rising to be heard over the catcalls, whistling, and clapping happening on the other side of the curtain, as the woman who went on before me finishes up her performance.
“If it’s burning eternally, it’s probably chlamydia,” Ariel deadpans.
“Is this your idea of pep talk?”
“Do you need a pep talk?” she asks with a confused look on her face.
“Have we met?!” I shout hysterically. “Do you think this is something I’m a hundred percent confident about right now? I feel sick. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t think I’ve had enough practice.”
I start to back away from the curtain when she reaches out and grabs my arm to stop me from running as fast as I can off this stage and out of this club.
“You’ve had enough practice. You finally let your hair down, literally and figuratively,” she reminds me, as I tentatively run my fingers through my long blond hair, which she recently convinced me to put caramel highlights in, and which has been curled and teased and hangs around my shoulders and halfway down my back. “This is where your future begins, babe. Right here. On this stage. This is where you take back your life and give a giant fuck you to that dipshit of an ex-husband. And that hot piece of man meat out there in the audience who has no idea what’s about to hit him.”
My eyes start to burn as they fill with tears and I quickly blink them back before they ruin the perfect cat-eye eyeliner and false lashes Ariel applied for me in the dressing room an hour ago.
“That was the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I tell her with a sniffle.
“Just think: Instead of having that giant pole up your ass, you’ll have it in the palm of your hands and be swinging on it in about forty-five seconds,” s
he says with a smirk.
“And then you go and completely ruin it,” I mutter with a shake of my head, taking another deep breath and turning away from her to face the curtains again.
“You’ll be fine. It’s two minutes and thirty-five seconds of your life. It will be over before you know it,” she reassures me with a pat on the back.
“I need my Clorox wipes,” I mumble nervously, bringing one hand up to my mouth and chewing nervously on my thumb nail.
She smacks my hand away and rolls her eyes.
“You do not need your Clorox wipes. That pole is clean. Ish. You know what? Don’t think about the pole and all the vaginas that have spun on it before you tonight. Think about how freeing this will be. Think about your business. Our business. Think about being independent and paying your own bills and banging the hot-as-balls owner of this club,” she says with a wag of her eyebrows.
“That’s not why I’m doing this,” I reply indignantly, even though just the thought of finally being naked in a bed with that man makes me feel all warm and tingly.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, princess. You’re totally going to bang that man like a screen door in a hurricane. Especially when he sees you in this outfit,” Ariel states, looking me up and down. “Well, the outfit you have on underneath that thing.”
I take a second to look down at myself and smile. PJ told me to never, ever wear this costume again, and I did it just to irritate him. And to spot him in the crowd and see the look on his face when I take it off. I’m not the prude he probably still thinks I am. I can change. I can be sexy and outgoing and do something completely outrageous and not in my comfort zone.
“I can do this,” I state with a nod of my head.
“Hell yeah you can!” Ariel cheers, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Just don’t trip and fall on your face in those ridiculously high heels. Biting it and smacking your face onto the stage is not hot.”
I glare at her, and she holds her hands up and begins backing away.
“You’ve got this. Shake your ass and make Momma some money!” Ariel shouts before disappearing around a corner to go out into the audience and cheer me on.
“Let’s give a great big round of applause to Tiffany! We’ve got an extra-special treat for you next. Get your dollar bills ready, folks. Straight from the castle, looking for her very own prince is the hottest princess you’ll ever meet! Put your hands together for Cinderella!”
Letting out a long, slow breath, I grab onto the velvet curtain and yank it open, pasting a smile on my face and ignoring the butterflies flapping around in my stomach as I make my way on stage.
I can do this.
I’m going to go out there and show everyone that it’s possible for a housewife to make something of herself. Even if she has to make it by being a stripper.
And I’m definitely going to show PJ that he can’t tell me what to do.
Fuck. That. Shit.
* * *
“Who the hell are you and what have you done with Cindy?” Ariel screeches as she comes flying through the door of Tiffany’s dressing room, which she let me borrow, quickly closing it behind her.
I finish tying the short, light-blue satin robe around my waist, covering up my matching light-blue lace bra and thong. I can’t believe I’m actually a little sad to be covering everything up now that I conquered the beast. I sort of want to walk around in my underwear everywhere now.
“Was it bad? It was bad, wasn’t it? I stumbled a little during the chorus and I forgot to make eye contact a few times and OH MY GOD I JUST STRIPPED OUT ON A STAGE IN FRONT OF PEOPLE!” I cry, slapping my hand over my mouth and staring at Ariel with wide eyes.
“Dude. DUDE. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Like, seriously. Who the fuck are you? You owned that damn stage. Yeah, I saw you stumble a little, but that’s because I was looking at your legs and feet, making sure you didn’t look like Bambi first learning how to walk in those stripper heels. Everyone else in that room was staring at your tits and probably didn’t even notice. Holy shit. You just took your clothes off for money and looked like a fucking pro,” she whispers, the shocked look on her face immediately morphing into a huge smile.
“I did it.” I smile back, dropping my hand from my mouth.
Honestly, I don’t even remember everything that happened out there. It all went by so fast, and the loud, sexy beat of the music just drowned out the voices in my head until all I could think about was moving my body. Each shout of approval, whistle of appreciation, and wad of dollar bills that were tossed on stage at my feet, spurred me on to keep going, do more, be sexier, break out of my comfort zone and make that stage my bitch.
“No need to thank me for making you watch that corny movie last night. Watching you hump that stripper pole like a champ is all the thanks I need,” Ariel laughs.
When she showed up at my house last night while I was on the verge of a panic attack, pathetically practicing some dance moves in front of the mirror in my bedroom, she grabbed my laptop and ordered Striptease with Demi Moore. She’s right, it was the corniest movie I’ve ever seen, but Jesus that woman could move. We’d pause the movie a hundred times during her dances and Ariel would make me copy her moves until I got them just right.
I’ve never felt a high like this before. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking, and all I can think about is doing it again. I never want this feeling to end. This feeling of freedom and sexiness and being in control.
Right when I think nothing could possibly ruin this moment, I realize I’ve forgotten about the one person who could ruin everything about the good mood I’m feeling.
The dressing room door suddenly flies open and slams against the opposite wall with a bang, making Ariel and I jump. PJ stands in the doorway, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring as he points at Ariel without ever taking his eyes off mine.
“You. Out. Now,” he orders her through clenched teeth.
She opens her mouth, probably to go off on him, but I quickly reach out and grab her arm, giving it a squeeze.
“It’s fine. Go grab a drink and I’ll come find you in a little bit,” I tell her quietly.
She looks at me with wide eyes, silently telling me that I damn well better not let him ruin my night with whatever he came in here all pissed off about. I give her a small nod, making sure she knows I hear her loud and clear.
With a sigh, she turns and heads toward the door, pausing in the doorway just long enough to growl at PJ and give him a dirty look before she disappears out into the hall.
As soon as she’s gone, PJ stomps into the room, grabs the door handle and jerks the door closed so hard it rattles the door frame. I can’t deny how hot he looks in a pair of tailored black dress pants and a dark-gray button-down dress shirt. The sleeves of his shirt are unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows, and I can see the corded muscles in his forearms as he clenches and unclenches his fists down by his sides. I watch with growing irritation as he just stands there glaring at me with a muscle ticking in his jaw as he grinds his teeth with obvious anger. At me. Because I dared to go against his demands and did what I wanted.
“I can’t believe you—”
“Oh, screw you!” I shout, cutting off the start of his lecture, which comes out through his still-clenched teeth. “I’m well aware of how much you don’t believe in me, thank you very much. I hope you didn’t come storming in here like a fucking Neanderthal expecting an apology, because you’re not getting one! I didn’t go behind your back to set this up with Tiffany or go out there on that stage tonight to piss you off, I did it for me. FOR ME! I made a decision about MY life and about what I needed to do to get it back on track so I don’t feel like I’m drowning every minute of every damn day!”
He opens his mouth to interrupt me but I don’t let him. I’m too fired up to stop now.
“Maybe I wasn’t the best, maybe I still have a lot of work to do, and maybe all of that clapping and cheering and whistling was because they felt sorry
for me, but I don’t give a shit! I conquered my fears. I made my fears my BITCH. I went out there on that stage and I danced and I took my clothes off and I loved every fucking minute of it! For the first time in my life I felt like I was in control, and there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you just storm in here and ruin that for me!”
I let out an annoyed huff and cross my arms in front of me.
“Are you finished?” PJ asks quietly with a quirk of one eyebrow.
“Oh, I’m just getting started, buddy.”
All of a sudden, he charges across the room, closing the distance between us until I have no choice but to quickly shuffle my feet and move until my back slams into the wall behind me and I have nowhere else to go.
PJ’s hands smack against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in as he holds his body just inches away from mine and stares down into my eyes.
“Do you know why I invited you to Charming’s that night your asshole of an ex-father-in-law showed up?” he asks in a low voice, his warm, peppermint-scented breath puffing in my face with each ragged breath he takes, and the woodsy smell of his cologne invading my senses.
I don’t know what’s happening right now and hate how much my heart flutters in my chest just by having him this close to me when he’s royally pissing me off.
He doesn’t wait for me to reply and answers his own question.
“I invited you and your friends that night because I wanted to scare you off. I wanted you to run away with your tail between your legs and prove me right, but it didn’t work. You persisted and you did everything I told you not to do. I never expected in a million years you’d give me the best lap dance of my life that night. Or rip your shirt off in the middle of your front yard, stand your ground, and kiss me back. I never expected this. I never expected you.”
My anger starts to wilt little by little with each word he says, and with his hands still pressing against the wall on either side of my head, he bends his elbows, bringing his body flush against mine.
“If you would have let me finish what I started to say when I walked in here, you would have heard me tell you that I can’t believe how fucking hot you looked out there,” he tells me softly. “Watching you strut out there on that stage with your head held high, all defiant and confident, was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t repeatedly tell you no about dancing here because I thought you couldn’t do it. I did it because I wanted you to want it. I wanted you to get pissed off, and I wanted you to defy me.”